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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23799724">Save Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Copper_Cat/pseuds/Copper_Cat'>Copper_Cat</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Attempted Murder, Crime Fighting, Death, F/M, Fighting, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Murder, Swearing, Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 23:29:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,944</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23799724</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Copper_Cat/pseuds/Copper_Cat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a hitman who never finishes a job was a good idea. Get paid, reassure them the job was done, go off the grid for a while. After pissing off about three clients, you realize they would be more than happy to hire other hitmen... on you.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sherlock X Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Please Help Me, Mr. Holmes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello! Coppercatwrites here with my first Sherlock x reader story. I was inspired to write this with a prompt I read on Pinterest! I have the second chapter almost done, but please let me know if you like it! don't be afraid to comment or request anything! Feedback from you guys helps boost my writings!</p>
<p>This has been posted to my Tumblr. @coppercatwrites as well. I'd like to shout out my amazing friend Melanie (melanoms) for beta reading! She's an amazing writer please check out her Sherlock fic! it's mindblowing.</p>
<p>(first &amp; second chapter not beta read)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Pacing the floor of 221B, you anxiously wait for the return of Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson. As you walk up to the fireplace, you pick up a skull from the shelf. While inspecting it, you notice a pack of cigarettes drop to your feet. As you move to pick it up, you freeze at the sound of a click. </p>
<p>looking to your left, you notice a shorter blonde man holding out a gun. A taller man  with dark hair calmly stands next to him.</p>
<p>“Who are you and why are you here?” The shorter man speaks. </p>
<p>You raise your hands in surrender, the skull still in hand. “If you put the gun away, we can talk.” </p>
<p>“No, no I’m not. You broke into our flat. Tell me why you’re here.” </p>
<p>The taller man sets his hand on the gun, pushing it down to face the floor. “Let her talk, John.” </p>
<p>John looks at him in disbelief. “But Sherlock—” he stops and sighs. He puts the gun back in his coat pocket and stands with his arms folded across his chest. </p>
<p>After you let out a sigh of relief, you set the skull back and cross your arms. “ My name is (y/n) and I need your help.” </p>
<p>“How did you even get in here?” John asks, still baffled. </p>
<p>“I lock picked the door. Now <em> please </em>help me.” </p>
<p>Sherlock takes off his coat and scarf and grabs a chair. Once set in the middle of the room, he sits in a chair of his own. Taking the hint, you cautiously sit. John stands by the fireplace with his arms still crossed.</p>
<p>"There are people out to kill me." You wait for a response but they both continue to stare at you. </p>
<p>"I'm a hitman who's never killed anybody. I have the training, I just don't want to take lives. I accepted half the payment from multiple buyers, but I never finished the job. I’m now a target and I don't know what to do."</p>
<p>John gets aggravated. “Why should we help you? You’re a criminal! We could turn you in  this very moment.”  </p>
<p>“I… I don’t want to die because I scammed other criminals. I’ll be in your debt, I can do inside jobs for you.” </p>
<p>“Absolutely not.”</p>
<p>“I’ll take it.”</p>
<p>Sherlock and John say at the same time. John’s hard gaze has been on you since you came in, yet he looks to Sherlock with raised eyebrows. </p>
<p>Your tense shoulders relax and you let out a small sigh. “Thank you so m-”</p>
<p>“Not because we need your help, I’m just bored.” Sherlock stands and puts on his coat and scarf. “Now, it would be so kind of you to go back wherever you came from. John and I have some research to do.”  </p>
<p>Nodding, you stand and head for the door. “We’ll be in touch then, I presume? I didn’t give you much information.” </p>
<p>Sherlock searches for his phone. “Come here at the same time tomorrow. We’ll be here.” </p>
<p>With that, you leave the flat and start walking. By this time, it's dark out. You contemplate a cab, yet you decide to travel on foot. Speeding through alleyways you finally make it to a set of abandoned buildings. Once you unlock the door with your bobby pin, you walk inside. After a small sigh of relief, you close and slide down the door until you’re sitting against it. As you reach your arm above your head, you lazily turn the knob until it locks. </p>
<p>
  <em> “Meow” </em>
</p>
<p>“Hey checkers. How ya doing, buddy?” </p>
<p>The cat walks up closer to you and rubs against your legs. As he hops up to sit in your lap, you stroke his fur. </p>
<p>“I think I got some help today. I met the Sherlock and John guys from the paper today. He accepted my help request, surprisingly.” </p>
<p>
  <em> “Meow” </em>
</p>
<p>Giggling, you reach your hand in your pocket. “I found a can of tuna and some bread at Sherlock’s flat. Hopefully, this will hold you off until I can find you some actual cat food.” </p>
<p>After setting your cat off to the side, you set his food down by the makeshift water bowl. As you go to lay down, you hear a notification like sound and shuffling from outside the window. Frozen in your tracks, you listen to the slight rainfall outside. After a while of nothing, you decide that it was probably just the rain. Finally, you lay down on your wooden pallet bed and use your elbow as a pillow.</p>
<p>As your cat jumps up on your side, you sigh. “Tomorrow will be a better day, Check. I can feel it.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Little Details</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You, Sherlock, and John talk about what lies ahead and your next plan of action.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please Enjoy! this chapter was posted before my amazing beta reader and I had met each other through Tumblr.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Before you knock, the door swings open. In shock, you stand at the entryway looking at the person who opened the door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello, Mr.Holmes.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighs and lets you in. “Please, just call me Sherlock.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As you enter the living room, John sits in his chair reading a paper.  “Did your cat like the tuna?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Your eyebrows furrow and you turn to Sherlock. His eyes are glued on you like he’s waiting for a response.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Turning back to John, you shake your head. “I don't know what you mean.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock chimes in. “Oh, but I think you do. I believe we heard it straight from your mouth… ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>I found a can of tuna and some bread at Sherlock’s flat. Hopefully, this will hold you off until I can find you some actual cat food</span>
  </em>
  <span>’.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were the one outside…” Before you attempt to cover it up, you decide to be truthful to him.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s helping me after all… </span>
  </em>
  <span>“I’m sorry. I know I shouldn't have taken it, but I did. If you’d rather not help me, I’ll find someone else.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John sets his paper down and stands. “Alright. I don’t care why you did it, but don't do it again. I’ll be nice only once. If you take anything, I swear I will have you arrested the minute you do so."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You put your head down and shift your feet. "Yes, sir." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What I would like to know…" Sherlock moves into view. "If you scammed so much money, what did you do with it?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock cuts you off. “I know when you’re about to lie, give me the truth.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Damn okay….</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You sigh. “I’ve been sending it to my mother. I’ve opened multiple accounts and sent the money in a non- trackable way. She has a hard time living and I figured she would need the money more than I do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He eyes you for a moment and turns over to his desk. “I can tell you’re still hiding something but for now it's irrelevant. I guess first things first, how many jobs have you taken?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You cross your arms. “I have taken about three.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>About</span>
  </em>
  <span> three or </span>
  <em>
    <span>three</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Three.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John hums. “How do you know they're all after you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sighing, you explain your reasons. “I’ve been shot, I’ve been poisoned, and my last home exploded. I don't think that's a coincidence.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock pauses. “The house over by Woodman Avenue?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You sigh. “Precisely.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“W-wait hold on, you said you’ve been shot and poisoned? How are you still alive then?” John buts in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You sigh and roll up your sleeve. “One span to my right and I would have died instantly.” Sherlock walks up closer to examine your arm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John takes a glance and crosses his arms. “You said you were poisoned. How do you know?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before you answer him, Sherlock brushes his thumb across your scar. Taking a shaky breath in, you briefly make eye contact with his gaze before turning away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was… um... I was under-dosed by the same drug used to euthanize animals. There was some of it leftover in the dart that I pulled out of my shoulder.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock hums. “By the size of the scar you were hit in the arm by a sniper round. Because of the angle, it looks like this was shot from a taller building. I’m guessing you were in town when this happened?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You move your arm out of his hold. “Yes. I was.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You swear you see a bit of softness in his eyes, but it's gone as quickly as it came.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rolling your sleeve down, you explain your point. “Each client that I worked for had a request for me. The first one wanted their victim to be poisoned. They didn't care how, but they preferred poison. The harder it is to find the reason for the death, the harder it is to catch the person responsible. Less risk the client has to make. The second client rathered guns. Easy, simple, and with a little risk. The last client I had wanted to go big. He wanted explosions. He didn't care how many people were affected, he just wanted his number one target dead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock sits in his chair and brings his hands up to his face. “Names?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Usernames. There’s a website where clients post ads. Hitmen and assassins bid for each job. We meet up once to accept a down payment if there is one.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock hums. “I need to talk with John for a moment.” Both him and John walk out of the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a sigh, you sit down in Sherlock's chair. As you sink into it, you discover a faint smell of vanilla. Closing your eyes, you attempt to focus on it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So we’ve concluded that it's too dangerous for you to travel back and forth.” The baritone voice draws you out of your haze and back to reality. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“John and I decided that it would be best if you stayed here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You jump out of the chair. “Really? I’m already putting you in danger for being here. Now you want me to stay?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. What case is there to work if my client is dead?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His words brought you down a little. Not really understanding why it made you sad, you decide to not dwell over it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about my cat? I can't leave him there alone.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John sighs. “I guess he can come too.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Your eyes widen. “Really?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don't make me say it twice.” he holds his hand to his forehead. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There is a high risk that you might die if you stay two days…” Sherlock pauses. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You and John share a confusing look before both turning to Sherlock. With his eyes widened, he rushes to grab his coat from the chair you were sitting in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh! This is brilliant. John, grab your coat. We’re staying at (y/n)’s tonight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” you and John say simultaneously. </span>
  <span>Sherlock physically deflates. “Can't you see! If I’m right they will be planning something tonight because she,’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>he points to you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, ‘will be in the same spot… </span>
  <em>
    <span>twice</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Take The Shot</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Blood, sweat, and tears. But we made it.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sitting on the floor against the wall wasn't the most comfortable place to be, but at least you could look out the window. You let John sit on your “bed” while you sat next to him on the floor. While you play around with rocks, John leans onto the wall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So… what made you choose this place?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I needed to stay somewhere nobody would think to look.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Meow</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Checkers! Hey buddy.” He walks in your direction but you realize he’s not coming toward you… but to John.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John’s eyes narrow. Slowly, he sets his hand down for the cat to smell. Checkers licks his finger and runs off. John smiles and turns to you. “Does he usually act like that?”<br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You shrug. “He’s never really been around strangers so I’m not sure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You notice your cat cunning back into your direction with his crumbled paper. He picks it up and gives it to John. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No way.. He plays fetch?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You chuckle this time. “Yeah, give it a toss.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You fully smile when you see the joy that checkers brought to John’s face. The way his eyes lit up made you laugh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a few rounds of him playing fetch with Check, he calls out. “Sherlock, look at this cat! He plays fetch! Isn’t that amazing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock still looks out the window you were closest to. Something catching his eye. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sherlock.” John tries again. But still to no avail. Finally, he just takes the crumbled paper and throws it at Sherlock's face. After a successful hit, Sherlock turns in disgust. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just as he opens his mouth to say something, a shot rings out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You jump back away from the window with a hiss. A burning sensation on the side of your face draws your attention. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John’s voice takes over the room. “Everyone, down!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You’re not sure who said it, but someone had asked if you were okay. As you pull your hand away from your face, you find it covered in some blood. Just as you stare down at your hand for a moment or two, someone puts their hand under your chin and brings your head to look at them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“(y/n), I said are you okay? You might be going into shock.” Sherlock’s eyes bore into yours in search of an answer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“N-no I’m fine” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As John gets his gun out, another shot enters the room. This time, it cracks the wall behind you. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock slowly raises his head up to look out the window. “There! In the window, the glint of a sniper scope. By the sound of the gun and the time it takes to fire another shot, I believe it's a single round. If we hurry, we might catch him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock motions for you to stay down while he and John go into pursuit. As he leaves the building, you take a peek out the window where Sherlock was looking at. Slowly, you move away from the window and out a different door. As you watch Sherlock and John move one way, you decide to take the other. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taking the fire escape to where the window was, you could hear some muffled yelling. Slowly, you open the window enough for you to sneak in. Once landed in the hallway, you stalk forward until you see the back of someone's head. The air in your lungs gets stuck as you watch the scene unfold. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let John go, and we’ll leave.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sniper holds John closer to his body, his own gun touching his temple. “I’ll blow his brains out all over this floor if you get closer. You know too much.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Oh no. oh no oh no oh nonononono oh god no what do I—</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You spot the snipers gun resting against the window. Slowly, you pick it up and check to see if it's loaded. Once you realize it is, you turn away from the corner and take aim. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock eyes you behind the gunman and side steps away from where you’re pointing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If I may,” Sherlock pipes up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aim for the head.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The kick of the gun cut into your shoulder. John scrambles away as the gunman falls onto the ground. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You drop your gun and fall to your knees. You stare at the body that lies motionless on the floor.Tears start to form on your blank face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I just… killed a man…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When John realizes it was you who took the shot, he comes and sits next to you. “Hey, It’s going to be okay” His body blocks your view of the motionless one. Your eyes never move from that spot. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“(y/n).” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He leans in to hug you. Your fingers bunch up his jacket while you silently cry into his shoulder. His arms wrap around your body protectively while he looks over his shoulder at Sherlock. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s smirking while holding a phone. “I just set a meeting with the client in six hours. Should be simple to take him out.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John looks at Sherlock with a shocked and annoyed expression. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not good?” Sherlock counters. Total confusion written on his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When John motions to you, it clicks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, right. Not good.” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. No Rest For The Wicked</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The interrogation of the “Client".</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This one was fun to write!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p></p><div class="">
  <p>Cradling Checkers in your arms, you sit in John's chair at 221b. Sherlock paces around the flat while John brings you a mug of coffee and some bandages. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Thank you, for that by the way.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Cautiously, you raise your eyes to look into his. “I…yeah.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>As he sets a cold rag on your cheek, you flinch. You cringe harder when he starts to stitch the side of your face. As your hands ball into fists, Checkers hops out of your arms and explores the flat.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>After your graze has been cleaned and stitched, John runs out to go get food and cat items. Sherlock’s mental awareness comes back to him as John closes the door to leave  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Good shot, by the way.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You lick your chapped lips. “Yeah, thanks. How did you get a meeting with the client so fast?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sherlock smirks. “Well, he’s got to have some type of phone on him to notify the client that the job is done. Once I searched his pockets, the passcode was easy. He seemed a simple man, not good with tech. Especially shows in the Outdated Blackberry. Because of the simplicity of the passcode, he probably wasn’t using it to take any offline precautions. It’s obvious to see that he didn't bother getting a newer phone because he had no reason to. A search in the wallet showed no family so it couldn’t have been a name, no. it was numbers. Now he seemed like a military veteran judging by the haircut and the type of gun. He would have had some sort of connection with the gun being how he snuck it back.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You tilt your head. “Snuck it back?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He smirks. “Yes, snuck it back. Military servicemen can’t take home their service weapons. The only way it could have been possible is if he shipped it back in parts. Now, If the password was with numbers, my first guess would be the serial numbers of his gun. And I was correct.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your eyebrows raise. “Damn. you’re good. But can you just, make it a quick version.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>As Sherlock sighs, Checkers jumps up to his shoulders. He purrs and rubs his face against Sherlock’s cheek. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sherlock seemed startled at first, but relaxed and moved the cat into his lap. “Hey there.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You chuckle, “I didn’t think you’d like cats.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sherlock smirks, “I didn’t think I would either.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>After a soft moment of you and Sherlock looking at the cat, he continues. “Basically, I found the website he was on and I scrolled through the conversation. Apparently, most of the clients like to meet up afterward. I just set up a date and time and now we have a meeting.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You nod your head. “How are we gonna pass that? We have to be sure the client is who he says he is. I don't think you could walk in and say you’re the sniper, we have to have a look-alike.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sherlock scratches the cat's head. “John has the right build, but he doesn’t look the same.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You smirk. “Well, I know how to fix that. Do you have any makeup?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sherlock looks at you with confusion drawn on his face. “Why should I have makeup? I’m not a woman.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You chuckle. “Being a con-artist, you have to change a little each time you swindle someone. If I can make John look like the sniper, maybe we can have him draw out the information from the client.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He hums. “I see your point. I believe we can get some from Mrs. Hudson from below.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Once John comes home with the groceries, Sherlock turns to him. “We have an idea on how to talk to the client. Are you in?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Ye— wait a minute, what am I doing?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You laugh and sit John into a chair. “Just some undercover work. It’ll be fine.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>After you’ve messed with his hair and successfully made him look like the sniper, you stand back to marvel at your job. Sherlock stands next to you and smirks.  “Well done. Brilliant, actually. He’s got that disgruntled veteran look. Then again, he always did. It's just more profound.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>John’s laugh shortly turns into a look of dumbstruck. “You’re the one that made me disgruntled, Sherlock. Not the army.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your snort and hide your smile. Glancing between Sherlock and John, you find the silence a touch awkward. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sherlock’s smirk drops and he turns to put on his jacket. “We better get going. We don't want to raise suspicion.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>In the taxi ride over, Sherlock explained the plan at least two more times to John. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“So basically, I just try to convince the guy to say he hired me?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sherlock sighs. “Yes, then Lestrade can come and arrest him.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You pause, “A cop, Sherlock? I can be just as easily arrested if he finds anything out!” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sherlock turns toward the window, his focus drifting elsewhere. “He won’t. Not with me around at least.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Finally at the meeting sight, Sherlock and yourself hide behind some trash bins while John waits in the open of the alley. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You tap your fingers on your leg. “He’s late.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sherlock rolls his eyes. “He should be here any minute now. We’ve only been sitting here for five minutes.”  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>John looks around the alleyway nonchalantly while tapping his foot. As he turns around to say something, you hear footsteps from around the corner. Even in the dark, you could see his shoulders contract. No doubt that he was gritting his teeth as well. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“So, Bloodshot27. The job is done I presume?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>John clears his throat. “Yeah, aren’t you relieved that she’s gone?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The client looks at John over his nose. “Your voice sounds different.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>John clears his throat again. “A bit of a cold. Makes the throat scratchy.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The client hums and looks around. You see his eyes squint to look in the distance. He looks toward the rooftops and behind himself. His jaw moves from left to right in thought. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your legs start to lose feeling in them with the way they are bent. As you move to change positions, something warm touches your knee. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sherlock glances between you and John. “Don't…move…” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You look down to see his hand on your knee. Your face grows hot and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest. Practically hearing it thump against your ribcage. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Can he hear it too? </em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>John smirks. “Could just be the weather. Supposed to rain tonight. Some heavy winds from the east.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The client nods his head. “I guess you're right. So how much did we say? £15,000?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>John shuffles his feet. “It is what we agreed on, yes?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The client takes a few steps forward with cash in hand. “Thank you for your disposing of her. A disaster of a hitman she was.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You fully agreed with that statement, yet it also took a stab at your pride. As you rub your hands on your jeans, you bump into something. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>His hand. Oh god, his hand is still touching my knee. </em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>After the small bump, Sherlock recoils his arm back like your touch burned him. He mumbles something along the lines of “my apologies” and grabs his phone to send a text. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>After John counts the money, he sighs. “No problem. Glad to do business with you.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When the client turns to leave the alleyway, two squad cars block his getaway while John helps subdue him.  You and Sherlock come out of hiding and walk up to John. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sherlock stretches his hand out. “the recording, John”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>As John hands him the recorder, you give him a pat on the back. “You did well. Nice job.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Before John responds, the client turns his head at your voice. “FoxTrot0317. I figured this was a setup. Your time will be due. One day you’ll give up the ghost, and I’ll—”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Lestrade shoves him into the squad car. “Talks too much, doesn’t he?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Hearing John laugh made you chuckle. “Sounds like someone else we know.” John quips.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sherlock’s eyebrows raise as he turns to you and John. “what's that supposed to mean?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> You straighten out your smile. “Absolutely nothing.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>After the car drives away, Lestrade sighs and focuses on you. “Who are you?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Before you can come up with your answer, Sherlock steps in. “She’s another friend helping me with some cases. We best be off Lestrade, you have all the evidence you need.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Friend. Sherlock called me a friend, not a client.</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sherlock, John, and you all get in a cab back to 221b. While the silence is dragging you deeper into your thoughts, You can practically feel Sherlock’s gaze on you. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“FoxTrot0317. An interesting username. Why?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That's the first and only dance my father taught me before he died. I haven't performed it since” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sherlock hums. “I figured it was a dance you were referring to, but the numbers. Why the numbers. If the first part is sentimental, the numbers have to mean something too.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Maybe they don’t, Sherlock Holmes.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“A birthdate?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“An address? Street number?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>No</em>.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He tries once more, his fingers under his chin. “A date of death?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your breathing stutters and your eyebrows twitch. “No, Sherlock.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The cab falls quiet once more. Aside from the turning gears in Sherlock's head, the only noise in the cab is the soft music coming from the radio.</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you liked it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. We Danced</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After prior events, it's time to relax.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I learned a lot trying to write this chapter! OH, I enjoyed it so much. Sherlock's snarky ass. When will someone ever ask me to dance, I don't know. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>“You should go to bed. There’s quite a bit to do tomorrow morning.” Sherlock walks out of the kitchen with a mug of coffee. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your knee bounces up and down while you sit on the couch. “No. I’m good for now.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Bed.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You pause. “Excuse me?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Go. To. Bed. I know you heard me the first time.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You cross your arms with a hmph. “This is a couch, last I knew. I’m. Not. Tired.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He holds his gaze with you for what seemed like minutes. Finally, he gave in. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He sat his coffee mug on the table as he picked up his violin. After plucking a few strings, he starts to play. The longer he went on, the more your body started to sink into the couch. As you listened to the notes, you realized you’ve never heard it before. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey...” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was quiet from your lips. In fact, you’re surprised that he even heard it. He stops playing and turns to you. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What are you playing?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“A violin,” Sherlock deadpans. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>No shit.</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You sigh and shake your head. “What <em>song</em> were you playing? I don't think I’ve heard it before.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Good,” he replies. “It’s my own work. There shouldn’t be anything like it.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You smile and lean back into the couch. “It’s good. By all means, please continue.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He smirks and continues to play. At the ending of his song, he turns to you for the last final notes. He observes your slumping form on the couch. Arms at their sides, legs stretched, and shoulders drooped. The light smile you had grows a bit bigger after he bows. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That was wonderful. Have you named it?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He hums. “No. Not sure if I will.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You nod your head in silence. Nothing but the sounds of outside traffic fill the air of 221B. You bring your hand to your face to trace the stitches. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sherlock shakes his head. “Don’t do that. It will  scar worse if you keep playing with it.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You chuckle. “Won’t be my first, nor last, scar. Besides, it itches. ” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, this one is on your face. You should take more precaution.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your knee starts bouncing again. This time, it’s accompanied by your tapping fingers.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sherlock sips his coffee. “You said that you danced?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s been a long time. I was a little girl then.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He nods his head and walks closer to you. Leaning further back into the couch, you stutter. “W-what are you—”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He sticks his hand out for you to take. “Dance with me.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your eyebrows crease and your heart quickens. “Sherlock, I don’t think I remember how anymore. Besides, there’s no music to keep tempo.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He smirks and waves his outstretched hand again. “We don't need music.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>In defeat, you take his hand. As he pulls you up, your nose almost bumps into his chest. You feel the slight push of air come out of his nose. Clearly, he was amused. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You scratch the back of your neck. “There’s not that much room in here. We might bump into something.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He holds your hands up in position. “We’ll just dance around it.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sighing in defeat, you continue getting ready. You rest your hand upon his shoulder as his rests on your upper back.  You watch your feet as he takes lead. Your muscle memory makes quick work of your feet. You can feel him staring at you. Never once moving his head or his eyes. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Stop that,” you command.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Stop what?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Finally, you look him in the eyes. “You’re staring at me.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The corners of his lips twitch. “You are only a few feet away from me. Where else am I supposed to look if not at you?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You roll your eyes and huff. As you approach the end table, he sways you into a turn. “See? We can dance around things. Not that hard.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>you smile and shake your head. You catch yourself getting lost in his beautiful, gorgeous eyes. “You’re good at dancing.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He smiles. You swear you see a softness in his facial features. “As are you.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You said that your father taught you. How old were you when you learned?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your hand drops to his chest. Your eyes landing on the collar of his shirt. “I was about...—”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Thirteen, right?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your eyebrows crease. “How did you… actually, nevermind. I don’t even want to know how you knew that.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Good. I wasn’t going to tell you anyway.” He quips. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He brings your clasped hands up higher. You smirk as he opens his hand to let you pivot. Bringing yourself back in, his hand rests down by your waist. Your hand lays on his chest. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why don’t you dance anymore?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You sigh. “I’ve been… stressed and worried. Too much on my mind to stop and enjoy a simple thing like dancing.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You feel his thumb caress your hand. Your eyes shot up to his. his pupils blew wide open. Your eyebrows twitch as he shows you nothing except a neutral face. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>When did the gap between us get smaller?</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well when this case is done, you should be less stressed.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Carefully, he dips your form. Your clasped hands break as yours wrap around his neck. One of his hands rests on your waist while the other is on your back. A sly smile on his face. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sh—”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Nonononononono</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your head turns into the direction of the odd noise. Once you see what, or should you say who made it, you practically jump out of Sherlock’s arms. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Checkers!” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You realized you were too late when you saw the cat vomit in a pair of shoes by the door. You turn him away from the shoes onto the tile as Sherlock hands you some paper towels. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m so sorry. He’s only done this one time.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He stands there in silence. His eyebrows crease and his head tilts. His focus solely directed to the vomit-covered shoes. He opens his mouth to say something but closes it instead. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sherlock I’m so sorry.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His head turns to you, yet he still is looking at his shoes. “It's... fine.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>After you get the floor cleaned up, You hold up a pair of shoes that appear to be Sherlock’s. “I think these might be ruined. I can get you a new pair.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He takes the shoes and throws them in the trash. “Don't worry about it.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You nod your head and carry Checkers to the couch. “I think I’m going to head to bed now. Thank you for…the dance.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sherlock nods his head and turns to leave. “Careful of the stitching.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Before you can reply, you can hear his bedroom door close. You look at Checkers sitting on the floor. He looks from Sherlock's door to you. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Damnit, Checkers. I have to go find him new shoes because of you.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Meow</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Asshole.” You lie down to sleep, if only for a little while. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sherlock comes out of his room carrying a blanket. He stops when he sees your already sleeping form. Carefully, he drapes the blanket over you and turns back to his room. As he does so, he finds eye contact with your cat. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>If looks could kill, your cat would probably be the next experiment in his fridge right now.</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>this is where the rapid-fire chapters end lmao. currently working on chapter 6! feel free to comment!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. An Artists Work</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>New leverage on the case... and a shopping trip.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Shoutout to my beta Melanoms! she's one of my favorite people &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>After two hours of sleep, you get up from the couch. With a quick glance around the flat, you slide on your boots and fix up your hair. Careful not to wake anybody, you tread lightly down the rickety stairs. When you open the door, a gust of cold air pushes through. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Turning to the coat rack beside you, the first jacket you find is Sherlocks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I guess this could—</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John’s coat lies underneath. Your eyebrows quirk as you look at the front. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Four pockets… </span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>You pull the coat on and head out the door. After walking down a few blocks, you hail a cab to the closest twenty four hour shop. You pay the cabbie whatever money you had in your pockets and skip right on in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Walking briskly to the men's shoe department, you find the closest things to Sherlock’s loafers you could find. Brown. They're definitely not the same color, but they’ll have to do. Sneaking into the dressing rooms, you take off your boots and put on the loafers. You untie your boots and loosen them all the way while you stick your covered feet back in them. After they are laced up, you set off on a journey to find some other things. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You leave on some lensless glasses that you picked up from a random shelf. After a trip down the makeup aisle, you pluck a package of batteries off the shelf.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Where can I find face paint? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Excuse me, ma’am. Do you know where I can find face paint? I’m looking for a specific kind.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman turns to you and scowls. “Does it look like I work here?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As the lady turns around, you drop the batteries into her purse and give her </span>
  <em>
    <span>the bird</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You observe the store a while more before walking up to a clerk. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Hello! What can I do for you?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You bite your lip. "An application?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As the clerk grabs you an application, you survey the checkout lanes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once your eyes land on the woman with the planted batteries, you wait. Casually looking at the postcards beside the door. As the woman completes her purchase, you follow her out the door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>BEEP BEEP BEEP</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The manager pulls the woman aside as you walk through, effectively escaping the store you just robbed. You smile triumphantly as you take a longer route back to 221b. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Back at the flat, Sherlock and John are sitting in their chairs. Their heads faced the door. With eyebrows raised and a wave of the hand, you sit on the couch to take off your boots.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You open your mouth to cut the silence, but after realizing they're still looking at you, nothing comes out. Once you take the loafers off your feet, you throw them at Sherlock. Surprisingly, he didn't flinch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know,” Sherlock starts. “You didn't have to go steal me cheap shoes. I do have an extra pair.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You shrug. “I grabbed other things too.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John’s head tilts as he turns to sherlock.“What happened to your old shoes?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simultaneously, Sherlock and yourself look at Check’s napping ball of fur on the couch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sighing, you shake your head. “A long story.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You take off your fake glasses and set them aside. You open the pockets of John's jacket and dump out your makeup supplies. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John rubs his face. “Was stealing necessary? I mean, we could have just bought it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You chuckle.“Now John, that wouldn’t be as fun. Besides, I’m being hunted by hitmen. Would you want to be seen in public with me?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You smirk at his speechless expression and direct your focus to Sherlock.  “I have an idea on how to find the next client.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock’s fingers rest under his chin while John rolls his eyes and huffs. “This is ridiculous, but go on.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You jump up from the couch. “We create a fake user and talk to the client ourselves.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock hums. “Do you remember the user?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John’s eyebrows furrow. “How do you think this could work? I mean, wouldn't the client already have another person lined up?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You smile. “If the person who was hired failed to do a hit, the client will wait for someone to want the job. I’ve met him, the client, before. I know how he functions. His last hitman failed to poison and kill me. So obviously, he’d move on to a different hitman.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock grabs John's laptop and flips open the screen. He passes the laptop to you and you take it to the dining table. You and Sherlock lean onto the table while John sits across from you. Sherlock's tall frame hovers above. Hot breath tickling the exposed skin of your neck, goosebumps start to form. One hand dangerously close to yours while his other lightly ghosting your back. You tense at the contact, but you lean back into his hand.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“W- what do you want your username to be, Sherlock.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tilts his head to the side. “Well if I’m a chemist, something with the periodic table could work.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You smirk and create one for him. “975761875399” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighs. “You chose </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John stifles a laugh. “You said it didn’t matter.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“French Fries. Really?” Sherlock rolls his eyes as he straightens up beside you. His hip leans on the table while he crosses his arms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You chuckle. "I'm a little hungry." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John scratches his head. "Wait… how did you—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"They're atomic numbers, John. The chemical symbols spell out french fries."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hums. “So… uh… what’s the username we're looking for?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shadow.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John smirks. “Shadow? That's a boring username. No numbers?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You smile. “It’s only fitting. He’s rarely on the site. When he is, he just watches.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Old Friend</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>An interesting meeting with client #2.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi! super sorry this took longer to get ready and posted! things have gotten busy around here so I haven't been able to write often/ inspo wasn't hitting me. Enjoy Chapter 7!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sherlock huffs. “I look ridiculous.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You laugh as you watch him check himself out in the mirror. Ginger colored hair, fake glasses, a grey shirt, and black pants. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You look good with Ginger—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Auburn.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Auburn</span>
  </em>
  <span> colored hair. You still need the mustache though.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.” He pushes past you out of the bathroom and into the sitting room. “I will </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> wear one of those.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You huff. “I know you wouldn’t look good in it. It’s for your own safety. He knows far too many people. I would like to assume he already knows who you are.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pushes up his glasses. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Already fallen into the part I guess.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You talk like you know him.”<br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You pause. “Well duh, I attempted a hit for him.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not what I mean.” His arms cross above his chest, eyes searching into yours. “You knew him more than a client. An old friend perhaps?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Turning away from Sherlock, you look over your shoulder. “Just be ready in an hour. If we get there early, it will help keep your profile.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Face burning, you hop down the stairs and pass John. “I’m going out for coffee. Would you like anything?” Your hand holds the knob of the door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, but please take this.” He hands you some cash. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You squint at the money. “I’m surprised you're letting me go, actually.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John smiles. “Would you have stayed if I told you to?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Folding the money in your pocket, you smirk. “You’re right, I would have gone anyway. Thanks for the money.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After walking past the door, you find your way to the post office. You pluck an envelope from the shelf and drop in a keychain with the letter ‘H’. You also throw in a red bus that has the words ‘Welcome To London' plastered on the side. With a smile, you buy a stamp and send out the letter to your mother. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just as you enter the coffee shop, an unpleasant feeling washes over you. While standing in line, you make eye contact with a man sitting at a booth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit… I should have listened to John.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You turn out of the coffee shop and run into the most crowded area. From there, you get back to Baker Street as fast as you possibly could. Whipping the door open, you rush inside and up the stairs. Sherlock and John both hop out of their chairs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hope you're both ready because we need to leave. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Now</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John, Sherlock, and yourself leave 221B and hop into a cab. You pull out a wallet and toss it to the driver. His eyes widen at the excessive amounts of orange notes within the leather.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Leave us your car, and I swear I’ll return it with more money.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cabbie gets out and you hop into the front seat. With multiple twists and turns, you end up a block away from your meeting site. An abandoned factory.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John clears his throat. “Do I want to know who’s wallet that was?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You smirk. “No.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He huffs. “Okay, what happened when you went out for coffee?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I saw someone.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The abrupt stop of the cab makes sherlock and john slide forward into the driver and passenger seats. You turn and hand Sherlock a small microphone to hold in his pockets. “This is so we can hear you in case there’s trouble. He should be there soon.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock eyes you with a suspicious look before he exits the cab and walks into the building. You watch his retreating form as you hand John an earbud. Putting in your own, you turn the volume up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, who did you see when you went for coffee?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You huff. “Not the time, John. Maybe later.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Through the earbud, you hear a door opening and closing. The sound of footsteps grow closer. “You’re early.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock clears his throat and puts up a fake accent. “I thought it best to be early, Sir.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sir?” the man scoffs. “We’re both adults here, let's go by our users.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shadow, where can I find the woman you’re looking for?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man shakes his head. “I’m going to frisk you first. Pat ya down.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You hear a huff over the mic before the sound of ruffling clothing.  “Very well.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Back in the cab. John shakes his head. “He’s gonna find the mic. It’s not well hidden.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have faith, John.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Over the earbuds, the ruffling stops. “What’s this? Numbers, I’d say you’re trying to record me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry ‘bout the confusion. I like to record my research from the lab. Left it in my pocket by accident.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a beat of silence, a piercing scream blasted into your earpieces before nothing but static can be heard. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You throw your earpiece to the other side of the cab while John tosses his to the floor. “We need to get in there! He could be in trouble!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“John, I have nothing to defend myself with. What am I supposed to do in an empty warehouse to help sherlock?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stay. Behind. Me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John opens the door with his gun out and clears the hall. Slowly stalking forward, you hear muffled speaking coming from the open warehouse. You peak your head around the door and see Sherlock and the client. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So are we at a deal, Shadow?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait a minute now, numbers. You sure you’re up for this?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why wouldn’t I be?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because.” The client smirks and pulls a gun.  “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sherlock Holmes</span>
  </em>
  <span>, your record will be </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> dirty when you’re done.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You see his Adam's apple bob and his eyebrows twitch. “What makes ya think I’m Mr. Holmes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The client yells out into the warehouse. “If you don't come out on my count of three, I’m going to shoot Mr. Holmes in the head. One.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ay, you don't have to do that, I’m not Sherlock Holmes. I have a badge from work and everything!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Two.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You spring from your hiding position when John holds out his arm to block you. Your shoe hits his chest as you push him back from you. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nick, stand down! He’s not who you want to kill.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, there she is. I knew I saw you at the coffee shop.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a hand on Sherlock's chest, you turn to face the client. “This is between us. No more cat and mouse.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John scrambles out of his hiding place to stand next to Sherlock. His gun pointed at Nick.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just as you’re about to speak, Nick holds up his finger. “Just a second, I need to go get something. Would you mind waiting?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He opens the door and walks into a room. When he comes out, he’s accompanied by a little boy with noise-canceling earmuffs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John’s grip on his gun falters. “Oh, god. A child.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mommy! </span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nick holds the boy in front of him, gun a few inches away from the back of his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock’s eyebrows crease. “Mommy?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You grit your teeth while your eyes grow moist. “You son of a bitch.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smirks and directs his attention to Sherlock and John. “She didn’t tell you she had a son? Yeah, me neither.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Henry isn’t a part of this, let him go home.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What home? You stole something from me. It’s only fair I steal something from you.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John sucks in a breath and aims his gun to the ground. Sherlock studies the face of the terrified boy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your mom didn’t put up much fight. Doesn’t surprise me though. She was always weak.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rumble of Sherlock’s chest against your fingers nearly made you jump. “Let the boy go, we can talk this out like intellectuals.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nick chuckles. “ I trained you, (y/n). I </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved </span>
  </em>
  <span>you. How could you leave me?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, Nick. I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pauses and aims the gun back at Henry. “If you’re sorry, why did you hide my son from me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I tried not to hide him from you. I hid him from everyone else. I was afraid of him getting hurt.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We could have protected him </span>
  <em>
    <span>together</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Like what family is supposed to do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few tears drip down your face. “I see that now and I’m sorry. I—” you take a shaky breath in. “I still love you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nick’s grip on the gun falters and his finger rests away from the trigger. His gaze moves to the floor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nick, I think you should put the gun down. We can be a family again.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Your eyes soften as your hand flattens out over your lower abdomen. “I don’t want to lose this one. I hope it's a girl.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock’ s wide eyes look from Nick to you and back again. You hear him start to speak under his breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re n—” You elbow him in the stomach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John’ s eyebrows furrow as he mumbles something under his breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nick smiles widely and lets go of Henry. “I’m gonna be a father of two.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You lower yourself into a crouch as Henry’s body collides with yours. As you hold your son, Sherlock rushes to step in front of you. The pop of John's gun makes you glad you kept the earmuffs on Henry. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John holds pressure on Nick’s shoulder wound. When he turns to Sherlock, he sighs. “Take them home. I’ll be sure Lestrade and an ambulance get here.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You stand up, Henry wrapped around your neck and waist, and walk back out to the taxi. Sherlock hops in the driver's seat, his eyes between you and the road the whole way back to 221B. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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